


Come Up To Meet You, Tell You I’m Sorry

by not_a_total_basket_case



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, But it's there, F/M, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Maya dies, Modern Era, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Tags May Change, Wells dies, just barely, like I'm sorry to put Clarke (all of them) through this, like hard to write, like painfully, this is really angsty
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-18
Updated: 2018-03-15
Packaged: 2019-03-20 22:22:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13727184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/not_a_total_basket_case/pseuds/not_a_total_basket_case
Summary: Clarke glances at her dad’s old watch - about the only thing she has left of her old life. Fifteen minutes until her train pulls into Arkadia. Fifteen minutes until she returns to the life she’d run from. Fifteen minutes until she has to try and make things right with the friends she hasn’t spoken to in a year and a half. And she is not ready.Leaving had been a mistake. She’d realised that about four weeks into running away. But she didn’t know how to come home. She’d deleted her social media accounts and not returned any of the calls or frantic messages from her friends. She didn’t know how to tell them she wanted to come home. Didn’t know how to reconnect with them. And the longer she waited, the harder it became. Until she had no choice, but to just show up and hope she could convince them she was worth forgiving.orClarke has been gone for a year and half and now, while everyone needed her most and she has to make it up to her friends.





	1. I had to find you

**Author's Note:**

> Title and chapter title from Coldplay's 'The Scientist', which made a lot more sense before I butchered my original idea and wrote this instead. 
> 
> Tbh, I had a bad day, so this is what came from it. 
> 
> Unedited, because it's 4:30am and sleep is for the weak!
> 
>  
> 
> _Pleeeeease _read the warnings before you start reading. I don't want to upset anyone.__

Clarke glances at her dad’s old watch - about the only thing she has left of her old life. Fifteen minutes until her train pulls into Arkadia. Fifteen minutes until she returns to the life she’d run from. Fifteen minutes until she has to try and make things right with the friends she hasn’t spoken to in a year and a half. And she is not ready.

Leaving had been a mistake. She’d realised that about four weeks into running away. But she didn’t know how to come home. She’d deleted her social media accounts and not returned any of the calls or frantic messages from her friends. She didn’t know how to tell them she wanted to come home. Didn’t know how to reconnect with them. And the longer she waited, the harder it became. Until she had no choice, but to just show up and hope she could convince them she was worth forgiving.

Fifteen minutes later, she’s tugging nervously at her skirt, wishing she’d worn jeans. It might have been early spring in California, but it definitely still feels like winter in Arkadia, but the chill biting at her skin is grounding. It’s been a year and a half but the platform is still familiar. It even looks like the same sullen teenage is manning the sandwich bar that can been seen as she steps onto the street, with nothing but her bag slung over one shoulder.

She’s not sure what she’s going to do. She still has the key to the apartment her mum had bought her in her early college days, but there’s a good chance Abby had changed the locks when she realised Clarke was gone and had no intention to come home. She’s not sure what she’s going to do, in that case. Probably stay in a hostel until she can find a job and a roommate. She’s home now. She’s not running again.

Like the train station, the rest of Arkadia is the same. It both comforts and terrifies her. Everything being the same should mean she fits in still, but it also means everyone got on fine without her. She nearly has a heart attack when a dark haired girl in a red jacket pushes passed her, but it’s not Raven. The lack of limp and high pitched giggle confirm that.

Even her apartment building is the same. The door still squeaks on the hinges when she pushes it open and the elevator still has an out of order sign on it. She walks the three flights of stairs in a mostly dazed state, glancing longingly at number eighteen when she passes it. It’s been long enough since she’s been here, but that door still feels like home.

She almost cries in relief when her key turns in the lock of apartment twenty-three. Her mother had at least hoped she’d find her way back home. She does cry when she realises everything is mostly untouched. Unfinished canvases still leaning on the window, the same throw rug that she’s had since she was a baby thrown over the couch, bottles of alcohol lined along the top of the fridge. She frowns at those, pulling them down and immediately pouring them down the sink and dropping the empty bottles in the bin. She doesn’t need them anymore.

Her mother has obviously had someone clean the place while she’s been gone. The surfaces she expected to be grimy and covered in dust, are cleaner than when she left. She’s going to have to call her and let her know she’s home, so she doesn’t get accused of squatting in her own place. She had plans of reconnecting with her mother. She just didn’t think it would have to be so soon.

With the alcohol dealt with and the overwhelming feeling of being back in the place she’d run from, she needs _something_ to do with her hands. She throws her bag back over her shoulder, checks her pocket for her keys and stomps out of the apartment and into the basement, where the laundry is. She’s sorting through her clothes, separating the darks and the lights and the clean from the dirty when someone enters. She doesn’t turn around, because it could be _him_ , and as much as part of her was coming home for him; she’s not ready.

“Clarke?” The person asks and she sags in relief when it’s not Bellamy. But then bristles again, because it might not be him but it is one of her friends and she isn’t ready to see them yet. She doesn’t even know how to tell them she’s here.

She forces a smile onto her face and turns to face John Murphy. They weren’t really friends until about six months before she ran away. He was going through some shit, they all were, and initially she didn’t trust him. But he’d been the one to help Raven through the accident, the only one Raven let in after weeks in the hospital. So she’d developed a begrudging respect for him. Especially when she found out he was clean. She had thought he was still using, which wouldn’t have been helping Raven.

“Hey Murphy.” She smiles and the friendly tone feels forced even to her own ears. He’s holding a basket for of clothes and has frozen in the doorway.

“Should I have known you were back?” He asks, stepping forward and dropping his basket on the bench beside her. Straight to the point, just like the Murphy she knew. Which is comforting. Maybe they’ll all still be the same? “I don’t think anyone has told me you’re back.”

“I actually just got hom- back, about twenty minutes ago.” Clarke says. She stumbles over the word home, because while she’s referred to Arkadia as home since she left, she’s not sure she can say it to Murphy, knowing she ran away.

“Welcome back. Does anyone know you’re here?” He asks. He’s definitely referring to Bellamy. Maybe Raven too, but definitely Bellamy.

“I haven’t told... them yet.” Clarke says. “Could you keep it between us for now? Just for a few more days?” She hates the way it sounds like she’s begging. But she needs to adjust before she can talk to anyone. She’s come home, she came home for them, but she’s not ready.

“Yeah, Clarke. Sure.” Murphy says, emptying his basket into one and the machines and shrugging. “Whenever you’re ready.” It’s weirdly supporting.

“Thanks.” She mutters, turning away from him and putting her piles into two machines. She hates the way she can tell Murphy knows she’s afraid. But he’s always been good at reading people. Even if he doesn’t let anyone know.

“See you around.” He says, once he’s switched his machine on. And then he’s gone and she’s alone again. She let’s out a breath and steadies herself on the bench in front of her. It might be easier if she’s forced to meet all her friends like this. Half of them live in the same building as her, she’s bound to run into them eventually.

But running into Bellamy unprepared, without him knowing she’s back, sounds worse than having to admit she shouldn’t have left in the first place. Clarke and Bellamy had been the ones to hold their friendship group together. They were the leaders, the ones the others came to when they were in trouble. They were all a mess, in their own ways, each handling it differently than the other. All of them doing better when they had each other. Which is why Clarke had left. She couldn’t help her friends, when she couldn’t even help herself. She’d needed the time away, but she didn’t need to run away. They needed her and she couldn’t let them help her.

She passes number eighteen on her way back to her apartment and it’s tempting to just let herself in. The door is never locked during the day. It would almost be like before she left. But she can’t do it. It’s not fair on either of them.

*

She wakes up early the next morning, as the sun rises. A product of jet lag and the fact her room has no curtains. Once she’s working again, that’s the first thing she’s fixing. Stumbling out of bed, she fumbles for a sheet and hangs it over the empty rod and then practically falls in the shower

By the time she’s drunk half her coffee and is mostly human again, her phone chimes. She flinches, like she always does and unlocks the screen to several messages from Raven. She groans.

 **Raven Reyes**  
_Rookie mistake getting Murphy to keep a secret from me._  
_But I guess you left, so you wouldn’t know that._  
_It wouldn’t have taken me long to figure it out. I live below you. I can hear you._  
_Why didn’t you tell me you’re home, Clarke?_  
_Fuck that, why did you even leave?_

Clarke should have known Raven would be the first to know she’s home. You can hear everything from the apartment above. Raven would have known she was home the moment she walked in the door. And getting Murphy to keep a secret, when she should have worked out he wouldn’t. It’s not like he owes her anything

She stares at her phone for too long, deliberating what to tell Raven. Raven who is the girl she once called her best friend. Raven who spent her childhood stealing money from her mother just so she could feed herself. Raven who lost the boy who saved her when she found out he was sleeping with Clarke too. Raven who was almost paralysed in a car accident. Raven who simply deserved better than Clarke’s abandonment.

 **Clarke**  
_I’m sorry._  
_I should have told_  
_I shouldn’t have asked Murphy to lie to you_

It feels insignificant, but she sends the messages anyway. An apology is the first step to forgiveness. And Raven is probably one of the most important people to forgive her.

 **Raven Reyes**  
_Oh you’re sorry?_  
_Good._  
_You know what, fuck this._

Clarke gives it about a minute before Raven appears in her doorway, so she unlocks the deadbolt and returns to her bedroom to find a pair of pants. She’s halfway through pulling a pair of flannel pyjamas up her legs when she hears the door open. She knows it’s Raven, because she hears a soft ‘whoa’, probably the same reaction Clarke had to her own apartment. It’s like stepping back in time.

“Clarke Griffin, get your arse out here.” Raven shouts after a moment’s silence and Clarke can’t hide. She wants her friends back. She _needs_ them. She has to do this.

“Hi Raven.” Clarke says cautiously, stepping out of her bedroom and pulling the door shut behind her.

“Don’t you dare ‘ _hi Raven’_ me.” She snaps, crossing her arms over her chest and flicking her pony tail over her shoulder. Her hair is a little longer and she’s standing more confidently on her leg now, not trying to hide her brace, but she looks like the Raven from her memories, which kind of makes Clarke want to cry.

“I’m so sorry.” Clarke whispers, stepping forward and reaching for her coffee mug just for something to do with her hands. Because if she doesn’t have something to do with her hands, she’ll dig her nails into her palms, which is not going to help now.

“No, you don’t get to do that.” Raven says, voice raising slightly. “You don’t get to come back and say you’re sorry! You were gone for a year and half. Eighteen months of radio silence. You could have been dead for all we knew. You didn’t even tell us why. Or where you were going. No, you don’t get to come back and say you’re sorry.” Raven’s almost shouting by the time she’s finished. Clarke knows the neighbours can probably here, but she stands there and lets Raven yell, because she deserves this.

“I know.” Clarke whispers after a minute. “I never should have left in the first place. I wanted to come back but I didn’t know how.”

“Do you get how terrified we were?” Raven snaps. “You just upped and left, no warning. No explanation.”

“I left a note.” She says feebly, because she’s not sure the words ‘ _I’m sorry,_ ’ on a piece of paper slotted under Bellamy’s door really counts as a note.

“Yeah. Apologising. We thought we were going to find you dead.” Raven snaps. “He wouldn’t even come in here alone. We didn’t know what we were going to find. And then you weren’t even here. And you were just gone.”

Clarke can’t help the sob that escapes her at that. She knew she put her friends through hell when she left, knew she broke all their hearts. But she hadn’t known that _that’s_ what they had thought. And if she had, god she would have been back months – a year and a half – ago.

“Oh my god.” Clarke says, brushing the tears off her face roughly. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”

“Fucking, clearly.” Raven snaps again, but softens a little. “We saw Abby a few weeks later. She told us you went to California. So we knew you weren’t dead. At least.”

“I wanted to reach out.” Clarke tells her, looking at Raven with pleading eyes. She’d known her friends were going to be mad when she got back, but she’d never let herself think _how_ mad. “But I didn’t know how.”

“Why did you leave, Clarke?” Raven asks, finally dropping her defensive stance and sinking into one of the dining chairs, looking exhausted. “Just help me understand that.”

“Because I couldn’t live with myself. I couldn’t be around you all. When that night that – that night was all my fault.” Clarke says, her voice cracking.

“Jesus Christ.” Raven mutters, running her fingers throw her ponytail again and looking at Clarke with a mixture of sadness and pity. Neither of them say anything for a moment, both lost in their own memories of that night.

_“You can’t go on your own.” Clarke had said. “Give me five minutes to tell the others I’m leaving and I’ll give you guys a lift back.”_

_“No.” Maya slurred, gently pushing Clarke. “Go back to the party and enjoy it.”_

_“I’ll get her back to Jasper.” Wells had said. He was drunk too, but he would get her home safe._

_“No.” Clarke had told them. “Wait here and I’ll be right back!” She’d ducked inside with the intent of making sure Bellamy had the others taken care of and to maybe kiss him on the cheek because she was feeling brave. But Miller and Murphy were in a fight and Bellamy needed back up._

_“I leave for five minutes.” She had shouted, grabbing the back of Murphy’s collar and hauling with surprising strength him away from the guy he had been trying to punch. “What the fuck?”_

_“Those fuckers are messing with our girls.” Murphy shouted, trying to pull out of Clarke’s grasp. But she had his face firmly in one hand, the other fisted in his shirt and he was much drunker than her – it was easy to hold him in place._

_“You think our girls can’t look after themselves?” Clarke asked, trying to sound amused as she assessed the damage to his face. Split eyebrow, they’d gotten at least one good punch in._

_“Course they can.” Murphy said gruffly, once security had stepped in and taken the other guys outside. Raven, Octavia and Harper were now standing around the booth, blocking Miller and Murphy in, while Bellamy gave a similar lecture to Miller._

_“They only got you once and I don’t think it need stitches.” Clarke told him, tapping his face affectionately and then turned to Bellamy. “Swap.”_

_He grinned at her as they swapped sides of the table, so Clarke could check Miller’s wounds and Bellamy could shout at Murphy. It’s how they worked. Helping each other, helping their friends._

_She’d texted Wells, telling him what happened. He’d replied saying they’d walked and Clarke had chastised him for walking at night, but signed her message with about fifteen x’s._

_The next morning they were getting phone calls that Maya and Wells had been killed in a robbery gone wrong._

“Fuck.” Raven says. “Fuck, Clarke. I can’t believe I’m telling you this now. But what happened that night, it wasn’t your fault. Far from it.”

“I was their ride, Raven.” Clarke says, trying to steady her voice. If she’d gotten back outside two minutes earlier, Wells and Maya would have been safe in her car.

“Yeah, and I was the one who suggested Wells walked Maya home. Does that make it my fault?”

“No, but -” Clarke begins, but Raven cuts her off, holding a hand in front of her face.

“No buts. It wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t anyone’s but the piece of shit who shot our friends fault.” Raven says, pushing herself out of the chair and for a moment Clarke thinks she’s going to hug her. “I accepted that a long time ago. You have to as well.”  

“How?” Clarke sobs, ignoring the tears now and letting them fall. It was her fault. She should have driven them home.

“For fuck sake.” Raven mutters. “Come here.” She holds out her arms and Clarke practically throws herself at her friend. She nearly knocks them both over, but catches herself and steadies Raven at the last moment. She winds her arms tightly around Raven’s neck, smiling slightly between her tears and Raven wraps her own arms around Clarke’s waist.

“I’m still so mad at you.” Raven whispers. “But I missed you, Griffin. I’m glad you’re home.”

“Me too.”

Clarke invites Raven to stay after they let go of each other, but she tells her she has plans with Murphy and promises to text.

“Don’t let Bellamy find out you’re back the same way I did.” She warns as she lets herself out the door.

*

By the end of her second day in her apartment, she hasn’t run into Bellamy. Not that she really expected to, when the only reason she left the house was to get some groceries. It’s a Wednesday and she has no idea what kind of schedule he keeps now. She considers messaging Monty or Jasper, or Harper or Monroe, but Bellamy deserves to know first. So she paces her apartment, applies for a few jobs and tries to think of what she’s going to say to him.

It’s nearly eight o’clock when her phone chimes with a message. She dives on it, half expecting it to be Bellamy and is more than a little disappointed when it’s not. It would be so much easier if he messaged her. But why would he message her now, when she hasn’t responded to him in a year and a half?

 **Niylah  
** _Did you get there safe? Are you married to that boy yet._

 **Clarke**  
_Here safe. Apparently my mum didn’t cut me off completely so I’m in my apartment.  
I haven’t seen him yet. So I don’t even know if friendship is on the cards._

 **Niylah**  
_If he’s as good as you say, everything will turn out.  
Be safe. I miss you x_

 **Clarke**  
_I’ll let you know what happens  
I miss you too. _

Niylah had been one of the many strangers she had fallen into bed with in the first weeks of running away. Those first weeks had been a blur of alcohol, sex and whatever she could get her hands on to forget what she had run from. Clarke had been with Niylah when she realised how badly she wanted to come home. In a drunken state of vulnerability, Clarke explained everything. How she’d lost her dad three years ago, how only weeks ago she’d lost two of her friends, how her other friends relied on her to hold the group together. And then how she couldn’t do it, couldn’t face them when she couldn’t even keep herself together.

She’d loved Niylah and she was pretty sure that she loved Clarke back, but they were just friends. Friends who helped each other through some of the most difficult times of each other’s life. She helped Clarke stop drinking, get off the other stuff she was trying to cope with. She wouldn’t have known how come back if Niylah hadn’t convinced her.

Niylah’s messages are what convince Clarke that Bellamy deserves to hear from her _now._ Like, right now. She’s been avoiding it too long. He’s her best friend and he’s _going_ to be happy to see her. She doesn’t even bother putting shoes on, just grabs her coat from the hook at the front door because her keys are in the pocket and follows the cold, concrete hallway to his apartment.

She knocks on the door, too loud and too long for the time of night and her breath catches when he pulls it open, concern on his face. Black, unruly curls longer than she's used too and he's growing his facial hair. There's still a splattering of freckles on his face and he's wearing a dumb, history pun shirt that she's pretty sure she had bought him for Christmas a few years back. The concern on his face doesn’t last long though, as soon as he realises it’s her, it melts into anger.

“Clarke.” He says coldly, remaining in the doorway, so she can’t come inside.

“Hi.” She says weakly, because she doesn’t know what else to say. It’s the wrong thing and she knows it. Knows just how bad it was when she said it to Raven.

“Hi?” He asks, his face betraying no emotion. She hates that she can’t read him, because she’s always been able to.

“I just came to say that I’m home.” She tries, voice quivering. She’s not going to cry. “And that I’m sorry.”

“Oh thank fuck.” Bellamy says. She can see the exact moment he realises he's being too loud for the hallway, because he finally relents and let’s her into his apartment. The carpeted floor is a relief on her cold feet. But she only has a second to enjoy it because he starts speaking again. “The princess is sorry. It can all go back to how it was before.”

“I- what?” Clarke stammers, surprised at his reaction. She’d known he would be angry. But she hadn’t expected him to be mean. She thought he'd even be happy. At least relieved. 

“Thank god that after a year and a half she’s finally come back and she’s _sorry._ ” Bellamy spits at her. “Everything goes back to normal. Shall I call the others? Tell them to meet us at the bar?”

“I don’t drin-” She starts, but that’s not important right now. Right now she has to make things right with Bellamy. “Why are you doing this?”

“Why am I doing what exactly, Clarke?” He asks, “Why am I not over the moon you’re home after not even knowing if you were alive for so long? Or why am I angry you even left in the first place?”

“I don’t expect you to be happy I’m home.” Clarke says quietly, fighting the tears that are threatening to spill onto her cheeks. “I just wanted to apologise.”

“Go ahead.” He sneers. “Apologise.”

"I'm so sorry." She tells him. "I made such a huge mistake leaving. But I didn't know how to come back. I didn't know what to do. I know how much I hurt you."

"Sorry you were so busy living it up in California that you couldn't pick up the phone, you mean?" He snarls. 

"I - no. Bellamy, please?"

"Don't you fucking act like you're the victim here, Clarke." He snaps. 

“This isn’t who you are.” She can’t help retaliating at his cold words. It’s not fair, but she can’t help herself.

“This is who I’ve always been.” He says coldly. “You’ve just never been on this side of it.” Clarke flinches at his tone of voice. Bellamy Blake is a lot of things, but mean just to hurt someone? That’s something he’s not.

“No, it’s not.” Clarke says, trying to reach for him. It’s also unfair of her, but this isn’t how she imagined this conversation.

“You don’t get to say who I am Clarke.” Bellamy snaps. “You lost that right when you disappeared.”

“I need you.” Clarke shouts suddenly, tears running down her face openly now. She doesn’t even try to hide it.

“You need me?” He asks incredulously, stepping forward and shaking his head, as though he can’t believe what he’s hearing.

“I need the guy who wouldn’t let me do this alone. The guy I trusted with everything, who was always there for me. Who supported me and told me it wasn’t my fault.” Clarke sobs. She can’t do this without Bellamy. She came back for him.

“You left me, Clarke. You left everyone.” Bellamy says, his eyes now swimming in tears too. “You left me, when we were all broken. You left me to pick up the pieces of our friends. People who needed you, trusted you.” His words sting because she knows they’re true. Her friends needed her and she was too selfish to stay.

“I’m sorry.” Clarke whispers, her voice cracking. _She can’t lose him._ “I’m so sorry for leaving. But I knew I could. Because they had you.”

“We were supposed to be a fucking team, Clarke. And. You. Just. Left.” Bellamy says through gritted teeth, running a hand over his face.

“I know we can fix this.” Clarke whispers.

“I’m sorry too.” Bellamy says, taking a breath. For a second she thinks it’s going to be okay. That he’s going to forgive her. But then he adds, “But I don’t think we can.”

_They had been on the edge of something before Clarke had run away. Before Wells and Maya had been killed. But that was put on hold the morning they found out about their deaths._

_Clarke had gotten the phone call first. Not knowing how to comprehend the news, she’d walked to Bellamy’s apartment in a daze, not bothering to change out of her pyjamas._

_She knew he’d also gotten the call by the time she’s inside, because he simply wrapped his arms around her and let them sink to the floor. Within seconds her tears had soaked through his shirt and she could feel his on her skin._

_“Bell.” She’d sobbed, clutching him tighter and gasping for breath. “It’s my fault.”_

_“No, don’t you dare.” He’d said, voice raspy. “Don’t even think about it.”_

_“I was supposed to drive them home.” He was the only one she’d told. The only one who might have been able to figure out why she left._

_“No, it’s not your fault.” He told her, gently rocking them back and forth. “Not your fault, princess.”_

_“It is. It is. It is.” She’d chanted, pressing back into him._

_“Listen Clarke.” Bellamy said, pulling away to look at her. “This isn’t your fault. But if you need forgiveness, I’ll give that to you. You’re forgiven.”_

_Not knowing what else to do and with nothing else to say, Clarke had leaned forward, crushing her lips to his. He hadn’t hesitated in pulling her closer and kissing her back. She got lost in the feel of his mouth, the slide of his lips, until she had almost been able to clear Wells and Maya from her mind. But then when she had gone for his belt, gentle hands stopped her._

_“Not like this.” He’d said, pressing his lips to her forehead. “I’m sorry.”_

_A week later, she was gone._


	2. Tell you I need you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke tries to integrate herself back into her friends lives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just, it gets worse. So. much. angst. 
> 
> I actually edited this! But it's 3am, so I don't know if it counts? Also, my cat was laying on my keyboard. Blame her for any mistakes.
> 
> Also, the paragraphs in italics are in the past. Just if you were wondering!

Clarke turns on her heel, almost running out Bellamy’s apartment and back into her own. She throws herself through the front door, into her bedroom and onto her bed. She’s crying and it’s dramatic, but she can’t stop it. She curls up with her throw rug, sobbing into her pillow.

It takes her well over an hour to fall asleep and she wakes up with a headache from crying too much. But she can’t say she doesn’t deserve it. He’s not wrong. She left him. She knew how much he needed her and she still left.

It’s not like Clarke’s really surprised her meeting with Bellamy had gone so poorly. She might have been hoping for something different, but deep down, she knew he would be angry and it wasn’t going to be easy to get his forgiveness. She’s going to work on it though. She’s not giving up on their friendship that easily.

And working on repairing that friendship means getting out of bed and showering and facing the day. She’s got to prove she’s back and that she’s doing better. That she's not leaving again.

She’s got a message from Raven asking if she wants to get coffee with Harper before she starts work and while it’s the last thing she really wants to do, it’s a step forward in making it up to her friends. So she pulls on black jeans and a denim jacket and even puts a little makeup on her face, before stepping into the hallway and making her way to Raven’s door.

Clarke knocks lightly and steps in when she hears someone call that ‘it’s open.’ Raven’s apartment is a mess, which pre-running away would have been a red flag, but now it sort of resembles organised chaos. Which Clarke assumes is better. It almost looks like Raven is building something, from the wires and bits of metal everywhere. She doesn’t have time to comment though, because Raven is kissing Murphy’s cheek and pulling Clarke back out the door, yelling goodbye.

The walk to the bus station is awkward. She can feel the tension between the two of them and she doesn’t know what to say to break it. Raven is clearly still angry at Clarke, possibly more so if she’s spoken to Bellamy. But she’d been the one to reach out to Clarke. She was the one who invited her. So Raven obviously doesn’t hate Clarke and right now, that’s good enough.

After another minute or so of walking, Clarke makes a comment on the weather and Raven snorts, telling Clarke not to bother with small talk. That they’re friends, and they can walk in silence. Clarke has to duck her head to hide her smile at that. She might be angry still, but she’s not angry enough that she doesn’t consider them friends.

“So I figured Harper is probably the least angry at you. Then Monty.” Raven says, when they’re on the bus and heading towards the coffee shop they’re meeting Harper at. “They dated for a while, actually.”

“I thought that was going to happen.” Clarke says quietly, wondering if she’s allowed to comment on things like that. Or if her abandoning them means she’s lost the right.

“It didn’t last.” Raven shrugs. “They’re still friends though. I ugh - Harper doesn’t know you’re coming. Do you want me to tell her?”

“Do you mind if I do?” Clarke asks slowly. “I don’t want her to know I’m coming and be upset before I even get there.”

“Are you sure?” Raven asks, looking at Clarke dubiously. “We have a group chat. I can just tell them all?”

Clarke feels an unwelcome flash of hurt at not being included, and then kicks herself because she has no right to feel left out. She was the one left. “No. Let me tell them.”

They arrive at the coffee shop and Clarke takes a breath when she sees Harper sitting at one of the back tables, chatting with someone she obviously knows.

“Let’s do this, Griffin.” Raven says, leading the way into the shop and making a beeline for Harper’s table.

_One of the last times Clarke had seen Harper, she’d been laying in bed, sleeping off a hangover worse than the rest of her friends._

_“What are you doing to yourself, Harper?” Clarke had asked, trying to hold back her own tears. She hated seeing her friends like this. Hated there was nothing she could do to fix it. Hated that part of it was her fault._

_“I just don’t have any fight left in me.” Harper mumbled. On top of losing her best friend, her parents had disowned her and her brother had pushed her away, she was struggling with her studies and she simply wasn’t in a good place. Clarke had scowled at the half empty bottle of gin on the floor. Harper was already drunk when Bellamy dropped her home the night before and apparently she kept drinking._

_“Babe, you gotta get up.” Clarke had said, hearing the desperation in her voice, pulling the blankets off Harper. It was the day of Maya’s funeral and they had to be there in forty-five minutes. Harper was supposed to be ready already._

_“Can’t, ‘m not going” Harper muttered, blindly reaching for the covers. It had taken ten minutes, a motivational speech from Bellamy (over the phone because he was at Jasper’s – dealing with a similar situation) and a colourful string of swear words, but Clarke got Harper out of bed and into the shower. She washed her hair and made her brush her teeth (twice) and had her presentable, just in time to not be late to the service._

_With Harper fully sobered, her sadness had taken over again. She’d clung to Clarke the entire time, sobbing. And Clarke couldn’t comfort her because she was too overwhelmed with her own grief and guilt. After, they’d all drowned their sorrows, drinking too much, Clarke as messy as all of them. Leaving Bellamy to look after her too. And so three days later, she ran away._

“Holy shit.” Harper whispers, when Raven and Clarke get to the table. “Clarke!”

“Hey Harper.” Clarke says, sitting down next to Raven and smiling a little because at least Harper seems mostly happy to see her.

“Where have you been?” She asks, shoving menus at both of them and beaming back at Clarke. It’s a good look on Harper, one she hasn’t seen for far too long.

“California.” Clarke admits, wondering if Harper actually hasn’t heard or is just making conversation. “I was ugh, I ended up crashing with a friend for a lot longer than I’d planned.” It’s not technically a lie. She’d never meant to sleep at Niylah’s for so long, but for a while it was all that she had.

“Sounds like a ‘long story short’ if I ever heard it.” Harper says as Raven scoffs. Clarke’s pretty sure she hears someone’s shoe connect with someone’s shin – judging by the sour look on Raven's face, Harper kicked her.

“It kind of is. But I’m actually here to apologise, Harper.” Clarke says, pausing so Harper can nod. “I left, because I couldn’t deal with anything and I blamed myself for a lot, so I ran away. I was self-destructing and I didn’t want to take you down with me. I should have told you where I was going or replied to my messages or not deleted my Facebook or something. I should have come home over a year ago. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I fucked up. You have every right to hate me.”

“I appreciate your apology, Clarke.” Harper says, reaching over to squeeze her hand. “And I don’t hate you. I get why you left, fuck, I thought about it too. You put so much pressure on yourself to always be there for everyone, but you never took the time to look after yourself. No wonder you self-destructed.”

Clarke feels tears in her eyes again, she’s lost track of how many times she’s cried in the last three days, but at least this time it’s for something good. She can’t even explain how good it feels to have one of her friends not be angry with her. To forgive her. “Harper, I – thank you.” Clarke whispers, so her voice doesn’t crack.

“We missed you, Clarke.” Harper says. “And we’ve been waiting for you to come home.”

Clarke lets Harper and Raven lead the conversation away from Clarke’s apologies and listen to them gossip about their friends. She loves hearing about everything, catching up on what she’s missed and listening to Harper fill her in with facts that she hadn't heard about while being gone. She tries not too, but she can’t help bristling when they mention Bellamy.

“He doesn’t know you’re back yet, does he?” Harper asks, when she notices the reaction.

“He knows.” Clarke says, tearing at the napkin she’s holding. He knows and he had not been happy too see her.

“He was in my apartment this morning.” Raven confesses, glancing at Clarke as though she’s not sure she should be telling her this. “He told me what happened last night. I’m sorry. I didn’t think it would go down like that.”

“What happened?” Harper asks, before Clarke has time to take in what Raven had said.

“I went to see him.” Clarke sighs, not looking at either of them and still shredding her napkin. “He didn’t want to see me.”

“Can you blame him?” Harper asks gently. “He thought your note was a suicide letter. And then you weren’t in your apartment and you weren’t answering your phone. We wanted to file a missing persons report, but the police didn’t take us seriously for two days. He’ll come around.”

“I’m so sorry.” Clarke whispers, still staring at her hands. She can’t believe what she’s put her friends through. They deserve so much better than that. They thought she was dead, when in reality she was getting drunk and high in California, doing everything she could to forget them.

“You made a mistake.” Harper says. “You’re doing what you can to fix it and that’s what matters.”

“I’ve got to get to work.” Raven says, suddenly standing. “It’s my turn to host movie night, next week though. You’re welcome to come if you want Clarke. I’ll probably see you on Saturday, Harper.”

“Yeah, I think I’m free.” Clarke says, as though there is even the faintest possibility that she has other plans next week.

“Bye Rae.” Harper says, leaning over the table to hug Raven.

“Are you staying, Griffin?” Raven asks.

“I wouldn’t mind hanging out for a bit longer.” Harper says when Clarke looks at her. “I don’t have anything on today.”

Clarke watches Raven leave and then turns back to Harper, who is smiling at her. “Do you want to take a walk?” Clarke finds herself nodding and following Harper out of the coffee shop. It’s somehow comforting, walking through the city center with Harper. It’s something they had done often, before Clarke left, to help Harper out of whatever bad place she was in. Clarke had continued her aimless walking in California as well.

“Are you going to tell me the rest of your story?” Harper asks, once they get to the park. She drops down under a tree that brings about a wave of nostalgia. Clarke had spent so much time in this park, with all her friends, drawing or drinking or hanging out or hiding. It was one of their spots.

She drops down beside Harper and sighs. The grass is damp and it’s cold, but she’s happy here, with her friend. “I guess I have to.” She tells Harper about getting to California and using the money from her trust fund that she was able to access before her mum cut her off to go to nightclubs and get as off her face as she could. She tells her about the people she was with to try and forget her pain. She tells her about meeting Niylah, who was in an equally bad place. About telling her everything. About their pact to get better together. How she moved into to Niylah’s spare room, when she couldn’t figure out how to come home. And how Niylah had helped her find her way back.

_“Clarke, it’s nearly been eighteen months.” Niylah told her, as she dug through a pile of clothes on the couch. She had pulled out one of Clarke’s skirts and stepped into it. “You need to go home.”_

_“That’s mine.” Clarke had told her, as she flung a red vine at her friend, trying to deflect the question. “If you want me out of your house, that’s all you have to say.”_

_“You know that I’d have you stay forever.” Niylah said, fishing the red vine out of the washing and biting into it. “But you’re mopey and you said you want to go home. And all I want is for you to be happy, babe.”_

_“It’s his birthday today.” Clarke whispered, looking at her hands. “I’ve missed two of them. How do I just fix this?”_

_“He’ll forgive you. They all will.” Niylah promised, walking over to Clarke and pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “And if they don’t, they’re not worth it.”_

_“I was in love with him.” Clarke muttered, leaning against her friend in a half-hearted attempt at a hug. “How do I go back after leaving the way I did?”_

_“Just reach out.” She said, shrugging her shoulders. “Go home and call them. It’ll take time, but they’ll come round.”_

_“You make it sound so easy.” Clarke said, bitter._

_“Because it is.” Niylah said, patting Clarke’s head. “Have you seen my red blouse?”_

_“It’s in my wardrobe.”_

“She sounds like a great friend.” Harper says, when Clarke finishes her story.

“She is. I really miss her.” Clarke says, trying to keep her eyes dry. She’s cried enough in the last three days. “Tell me about you. I’ve missed so much.”

“There’s not much to tell.” Harper says. “I realised pretty soon after you left that I was spiralling and had to get my shit together. So I got the help I needed. Monty was great. I couldn’t have done it without him. I stopped trying to prove myself to my parents and I got my life back in track. I had a great support network and I couldn’t have done it without them.”

“And you’re doing okay, now?” Clarke asks, looking at Harper carefully.

“Honestly, yeah.” She smiles genuinely. “I started some really angry running with Bellamy, and that helped.”

“I’m proud of you.” Clarke says, leaning into Harper and ignoring the mention of Bellamy.

Harper drops her back at the apartment building late in the afternoon. Her jeans are wet from sitting in the cold all afternoon, but she’s in the best mood she’s been in for a while. She’s got at least one, probably two, of her friends back.

Her good mood is shattered, about fifteen seconds after she enters the building and walks into Bellamy. He starts to mumble an apology until he realises it’s her. He gives her a once over, then holds his head up and walks away. She’s practically shaking by the time she reaches her apartment. She knew she was dealing with a cold and distant Bellamy, but one that acts like she doesn’t exist? How does she fix that?

*

Over the next week, Clarke reunites with all her old friends, with mixed reactions. Like Raven predicted, Monty is happy to have her home, so is Monroe. Miller and Murphy are wary, but friendly, as though they’re worried she is going to take off again. For which she doesn’t blame them. Jasper is angry at her, but as Monty assures her, it’s for leaving – not for Maya, so he must have been talking to Raven. Octavia won’t speak to her, which she supposes is because of her brother.

Coming home was always going to be a challenge, but she had never planned passed the initial meetings. She doesn’t have any idea how to integrate herself back into their lives. She doesn’t know how make the ones that are still angry at her forgive her. She never had a plan for this. Which she tells Niylah on the phone, while she scoops ice-cream into her mouth and sulks on Friday night. She knows Raven and Murphy have gone out, she saw them leave. It hurts that she’s not invited, not that she deserves an invite.

“They might be going on a date.” Niylah reminds her.

“They might be.” Clarke agrees, noncommittal.

“There’s still the movie night tomorrow, yeah?” Niylah says gently. “You’re invited to that. Baby steps.”

“That’ll be interesting.” Clarke mutters, stabbing at a particularly hard bit of chocolate. “Let’s throw a bunch of my exes into the room to make it more awkward.”

“Clarke Griffin, that is not the attitude to have.” Niylah lectures. “Now go and put that ice-cream back in the freezer and go to bed. Wake up and do some yoga or something. I love you.”

“I never even told you I had ice-cream.” Clarke mumbles, obediently putting the ice-cream away. “Love you too.” She would have absolutely already crashed and burnt if it weren’t for Niylah.

*

She’s seen Bellamy twice, since literally running into him on the stairwell. The first time she’d managed to say hi and received a nod in return. The second time she’s not even sure he noticed her, he had headphones in and was coming back from a jog. She was checking her mail and he was already stepping onto the stairs as she turned around. It was like they were strangers and it killed her.

But tonight, they were getting thrown into a social event together. She’s not ready, she’s sure of that. But what choice does she have? If she doesn’t go to the movie night, they’re going to think she’s chosen not to see her friends, knowing full well that she has no where else to be on a Saturday. So she sucks it up, texts Niylah for motivation and spends forty five minutes at the grocery store trying to work out what snacks everyone likes.

She gets to Raven’s half an hour early, so she beats the rest of their friends (something else Niylah had suggested). Seeming to understand, Raven let’s Clarke in without questioning her earliness and sets her to work making guacamole.

She listens to Raven telling Murphy about her current project, interjecting where she can. It’s nice, companionable even, until there is a knock on the door. She can’t help flinching, wishing she were anywhere else. Murphy checks the peephole, glances back at her sympathetically and opens the door to the Blake siblings.

_“Someone tell Bellamy that I’m not talking to him.” Octavia had said, stalking into Raven’s kitchen with her brother and slamming her purse onto the bench. Clarke and Raven had exchanged amused glances. The two were inseparable, but fought like cats and dogs, often not resolving it until someone stepped in._

_“She’s not talking to you, Blake.” Clarke had said, nudging his shoulder as he stood next to her._

_“Thanks Griffin, the last four hours of silence weren’t a good enough indicator.” Bellamy grunted, opening Raven’s fridge and helping himself to a beer._

_“What did you do?” Raven asked, from her spot on the bench, kicking her feet out at Bellamy._

_“I’m just trying to look out her.” He’d muttered, using the bench to pop the top off._

_“_ Yelling _at my boyfriend is not looking out for me.” Octavia cried, crossing her arms over her chest and storming into Raven’s bedroom._

_“I’ll take Little, you take Big.” Raven said, following Octavia out of the room._

_“You’ve got to let her grow up eventually, Bell.” Clarke said, reaching for his free hand and squeezing it. “She’s old enough to make her own choices.”_

_“They met at the gym, Clarke.” Bellamy groaned, looking defeated, as though he knew he’d already lost the battle. “He’s a gym junkie.”_

_“God forbid he could take you in a fight.” Clarke teases. “I bet he couldn’t take Octavia.”_

_“If that was an innuendo, I hate you for it.”_

_“It wasn’t, but now it feels like a missed opportunity.” Clarke grinned. “You gotta trust her. She knows what she’s doing.”_

_A year later, Clarke had held Octavia while she wept. Lincoln had been killed in a hit and run, leaving Octavia heartbroken._

“What the fuck is she doing here?” Octavia asks, glaring at Raven as she drops her purse on the counter. The action is so similar to Clarke’s memory that she aches.

“O.” Raven says slowly.

“Don’t ‘O’ me.” Octavia snaps. “Whatever. I’m picking the movie.” She leaves the kitchen, in favour of the couch in room opposite. To Clarke’s dismay, but not surprise, Bellamy follows his sister without a word.

“I’m sorry.” Raven says quietly. “I know this is hard and I want to make it better.”

“Thanks.” Clarke whispers, touched at Raven’s words. Things are going to get better.

Fifteen minutes later everyone is settled in Raven’s lounge room. Clarke is sandwiches between Harper and Monty, which she’s grateful for. She can’t even look at Bellamy from this angle. And she almost can’t feel Octavia’s seething glare.

“What are we watching, Octavia?” Miller asks, scrolling through Netflix too fast for anyone to read the titles.

“What about Toy Story 3?” Octavia asks innocently, but Clarke tenses. “I know we could all relate to that?”

“Don’t be a dick, Octavia.” Raven says, before anyone else can react.

“Whatever.” Octavia says again, “Just put on ‘Love, Rosie.” And Clarke flinches because it feels like another dig. 

They watch the movie in mostly silence, Clarke all to aware that this is probably not how it normally goes. They probably normal heckle the movie or each other, throw food around and drink. It’s almost definitely not an awkward silence that Clarke can’t wait to get out of.

 **Clarke**  
_This was a mistake  
Why did I let you talk me into this_

 **Niylah  
** _What’s wrong?_

 **Clarke**  
_It’s awkward_  
_Octavia definitely hates me_  
_Bellamy isn’t talking to me_  
_No one knows what to say_

 **Niylah**  
_It’ll take time babe  
You’ve got this xx_

Clarke locks her phone, scowling at Niylah’s positive attitude. She wouldn’t be say that if she knew what was happening. If she knew how awkward Clarke feels. This would all be so much more manageable, if she could collapse on Niylah’s bed after and have her speak soothing words while she twisted intricate braids into her hair. For a second she wishes she’d never left California, but then she hears Jasper’s soft chuckle and it’s going to be worth it.  _If_ they forgive her.

Halfway through the movie, she sneaks into the kitchen for a glass of water and a second to breath. It’s a lot being crammed into Raven’s tiny living room. She freezes when she hears Octavia’s voice hissing to someone in the hallway. Had they not seen her get up? She’s almost sure she shouldn’t be hearing whatever they’re talking about. She does her best to block the voice out, but her name catches her attention.

“- Clarke’s just going to come back into our lives and act like nothing has changed.” Octavia hisses. “And she has no right.”

“She’s sorry.” Raven whispers back. “She made a mistake.”

“A mistake is not paying a bill on time.” Bellamy whispers back. “She didn’t make a mistake. She chose to leave.” She winces because he’s right. It wasn’t just a mistake. She’d hurt everyone she loves.

“It’s not like she did it to actively hurt you.” Raven snaps, sounding like it’s a conversation she’s had before.

“How can you just forgive her?” Octavia asks and Clarke freezes, knowing it’s not going to be something she wants to hear.

“I haven’t.” Raven says simply. “I don’t know if I ever will. Not completely. But she’s my –”

“I’ve got to go.” Clarke says suddenly, pushing her way into the hallway and holding up her phone as though someone had called. “Thanks for inviting me. I’ll see you all around.”

Clarke has just enough time to hear Raven swear and Miller ask, _‘what the fuck just happened?’_

She’s not really dressed for being outside at night. The jeans and the same denim jacket she’d worn when she first went out with Raven and Harper aren’t doing much to fight the cold air biting at her skin. Her feet are walking the familiar path to the old dive bar she and Bellamy used to hide at. None of their other friends liked the vibe, which meant it became their sanctuary when they needed an escape.

She’s not going to drink. She hadn’t quit because she was dependent on the alcohol, she’d quit because she didn’t like who she was when she got drunk. She’d quit because she had made one too many bad choices under the influence. And she doesn't want to go back to that place.

She sits at the bar anyway, forcing a smile when the bartender makes his way over to her.

“Haven’t seen you around in a while.” Roan says, polishing a glass with a rag that is definitely too dirty to have much affect. She knows they have a dishwasher and Roan just likes to play the dramatic and terrifying bartender. “What can I get you?”

“Can it just be a ginger beer, please?” She asks, reaching for her keycard.

“Don’t want tequila?” He asks. She’s touched he remembers, but shakes her head.

“I don’t drink anymore.” She says. He looks at her with a sort of understanding that only bartenders can offer. Or maybe it’s only because he’d seen her self-destructing in the days before she left. She and Bellamy had been in three nights in a row, drinking until she couldn’t see straight.

“Where’s your boyfriend?” He questions, reaching for a clean glass and scooping ice into it.

“He’s not my boyfriend.” She says, the words are familiar on her lips. “Not even my friend anymore.” These ones aren’t. And they taste bitter in her mouth.

“Ah.” Roan says, pouring her drink and handing it to her. “Do you need an ear or can I serve the group down there?” He gestures to a loud group of giggling girls that have just walked in.

“Go for it.” Clarke says. “I’m just going to sit here and sulk for a while.”

“At least look good while you do it, Griffin.” Roan calls, just before he reaches the girls.

The lack of judgment is nice. Roan had always been part of the reason they preferred this bar. He let them drink as much as they needed, offered an ear when it was required and never kicked them out until he absolutely had too. He comes back and tops up her drink occasionally, reminding her that he’s good to listen if she wants to talk. She shakes her head, because she doesn’t even know where to start. She thinks about calling Niylah, but it’s late and she can’t call her every time something goes wrong. She’s an adult. She has to deal with this on her own.

“Hey pretty thing.” Someone calls, shaking Clarke out of her musings. “Whatcha doing down here all alone, huh?”

“Not alone.” She smiles sweetly. “Just waiting for my boyfriend.” She knows full well that sometimes the only way to get rid of unwanted advances is to make up a fake boyfriend.

“Not here yet?” He asks, stepping closer and she can smell the alcohol on him. “Why don’t we have some fun while you wait?”

“No, thank you.” She says firmly, glancing back down the bar, hoping to catch Roan’s attention. She’s not helpless, but she’d rather not have use the self-defense she’d learnt with Octavia when they found out who taught the class.

“Aww but hun, you don’t know what you’re missing out on.” He smirks, leaning forward to press a hand to her waist. She’s about to push it away, but he withdraws it first.

“Hey babe.” A new voice says. She stiffens when she feels an arm go around her shoulder. “Sorry I’m late.”

She watches the man who was hitting on her scamper away and then turns to face the person behind her. She recognised the voice of course, but she’s still shocked to see Bellamy behind her.

“Bell.” She breathes, leaning into his arm. He drops it immediately, as though her movement had reminded him it was there.

“I thought you didn’t – Raven said you didn’t drink?” Bellamy asks, hands in his pockets, looking awkward.

“I don’t.” Clarke says, holding her drink up so he can see the bubbles. “It’s ginger beer. Virgin.”

“Huh.”

“What are you doing here?” She asks after a beat of silence.

“You stormed out. We were, ugh, the others were worried.” Bellamy says. “You weren’t meant to hear what you heard.”

“Obviously.”

“Look, let’s just go home.” Bellamy mutters. “Raven is calling again.” He answers the phone, talking quietly while she gathers her things and makes sure her bill is paid. She gives Roan a little wave as she follows Bellamy out of the bar, something like hope blooming in her chest. He’d known where to find her and he’d been the one to look. Maybe he didn’t hate her as much as she thought.

But then he lets them into the apartment building and makes his way up the stairs without a second glance. He lets himself into his room and mumbles something that could possibly be goodnight and the hope in her chest dies. He was just helping her Raven find her. He didn't care where she was.

She still doesn't have her best friend. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So when I was proofreading (badly) someone told me that it sounds like I'm preparing for Niylarke. I'm not. That's just how I am with my best friend. Especially the stealing clothes bit. I'm currently wearing her shirt.  
> Anyway, I'm here for Niylarke as bffs. Sue me. 
> 
> Comments and kudos keep me motivated, make my day, etc! If you like it let me know!
> 
> Tumblr is [here](http://mynameisnotkatlyn.tumblr.com/)
> 
> <3


	3. Let's go back to the start

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so so sorry about the wait for this chapter! I've (for some reason) gone back to uni and I'm only three weeks in but I'm already a week behind.   
> But hopefully three and a half thousand words of angst make up for it? 
> 
> Special thanks to @totallynotashieldagent and @youleftme-Clarke for letting me bounce ideas around this week!

After the movie night that Clarke had run away from, things do start to get better.

That next morning Raven comes to her apartment looking sheepish, but holding a tub of Ben and Jerry’s chocolate chip cookie dough. It was what they’d always shared when they needed comforting. Clarke can’t stop the smile on her face as she let’s Raven in.

“Look.” Raven says, stepping into the apartment and leading the way to the couch. “I’m really sorry about what you heard last night. You didn’t hear all of what I was going to say though.”

“Are you going to tell me now?” Clarke asks, sitting next to Raven. She has a feeling that she’s going to like where this goes. Raven isn’t malicious. She wouldn’t say something just to hurt Clarke. Apparently that’s reserved for Octavia and Bellamy.

“I was going to say that you’re my friend anyway and I still love you.” Raven says. “You hurt us, Clarke. But I know you didn’t mean too. And while I might be upset you left, I’m _also_ just glad you’re back.”

“I’m glad I came back too.” Clarke says, offering her arms. Raven leans forward, hugging Clarke. If she gets Raven back, she’s going to be okay.

“Get some spoons and put something on Netflix.” Raven orders when they let go. She looks away quickly, but Clarke is pretty sure she sees tears shining in her eyes.

 

_She’d met Raven when they were twenty one and twenty three. She’d walked in on Clarke having sex with her boyfriend. It was made worse when Finn had tried telling Clarke he was planning on leaving Raven. They’d both stormed out of his apartment and headed in different directions, Clarke to Bellamy and Raven to let the air out of Finn’s tyres and possibly do other damage to Finn’s car that she never confessed too._

_Later, as she was leaving Bellamy’s apartment she had run into Raven again._

_“Sleeping with him too?” Raven snapped, trying to push passed her._

_“He’s my best friend.” Clarke said, feeling the need to defend herself. Even though she’d technically done nothing wrong. Finn had said he was single. She hadn’t known about Raven. She wouldn’t have done anything if she had._

_“Huh, thought you’d be banging someone else’s boyfriend by now.” Raven said. And Clarke didn’t know her then, but she knew it was feigned bravado. Raven was hurting._

_“I didn’t even know you existed.” Clarke snapped, heading back to her apartment, wanting to put as much distance between her and the girl staring daggers at the back of her head._

_“He didn’t tell you?” Raven asked. Clarke glanced back just in time to see the exact moment Raven crumbles and drops to the floor. Clarke’s protective instincts take over._

_“I’m so sorry.” Clarke told her, offering her a hand. “If I had known, nothing would have ever happened.”_

_She takes Raven back to her apartment, where they bitch about Finn, drink wine and eat the only thing Clarke has in her fridge – Ben and Jerry’s chocolate chip cookie dough._

 

Raven stays with Clarke for most of the day, leaving briefly to get some lunch because she doesn’t trust Clarke’s cooking even five years later. She promises Clarke that Bellamy will come around and he was just as worried as Raven was last night. They’d thought she’d run again.

“I did run again.” Clarke admits, laughing a little, because if she doesn’t she’ll cry. “But only to the bar. To drink ginger beer and pretend I was in a sad movie.”

“The weird bar, down the street?” Raven asks. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of that.”

_And of course Bellamy was the only one who knew where to find her._

*

Raven leaves at around six, because she’s taking Murphy on a date, ( _‘we take turns, Clarke. He deserves to be wooed too,’_ ) and Clarke is alone in her apartment once again. Only it doesn’t feel as lonely anymore. She can hear Raven moving around downstairs, getting ready to go out, and she knows things are going to get better. And Raven is pretty sure Bellamy is going to forgive her eventually. She’s feeling okay about everything for the first time since she came back.

She’s waiting for the other shoe to drop, but optimistically hoping it doesn’t. It’s a weird feeling for her, but it’s nice.

Of course, it doesn’t last long. She’s shaken out of her reverie when her phone starts ringing obnoxiously loudly. Glancing at the screen, she sees the familiar number of her mother. Who Clarke had said everything she could to hurt, to make the fact that she hadn’t planned on coming back for a long time less painful.

 

_“Clarke Eliza Griffin, where are you?” Abby had shouted when Clarke had finally picked up the phone. She’d been gone for two weeks and hadn’t answered any of the calls she’d received. “We’re worried sick.”_

_“California.” Clarke had slurred._

_“Are you drunk?” Abby cried down the phone and Clarke could practically see the disappointment in her eyes._

_“Absolutely wasted.”_

_“Come home, sweetheart.” Abby said sadly, changing tactics completely. “We’re worried.”_

_“No way.” Clarke said. “Come home and watch you replace everyone from your old life? I’m not interested.” She was referring to the man Abby was dating, Marcus Kane. Abby had recently told Clarke they were engaged and his daughter was moving in with them._

_“That’s not what I’m doing, Clarke.” Abby said sadly._

_“That’s what it looks like. You let dad die so you could replace him. You’ve got a failed daughter and you’re going to replace her.” Clarke laughed. “I’m not coming home.”_

_“I’m not going to pay for you to throw your life away in California.” Abby snapped. “Come home or you’ll find all your accounts closed.”_

_“Close them.” Clarke said, as harsh as she could, considering her state of inebriation. “I don’t need them. I don’t need you.” She should have hung up then. She’d broken her mothers heart and though hers was already shattered, it was crumbling further with each hurtful word she said. But she didn’t hang up. And Abby had obviously passed the phone over._

_“Clarke, what are you doing?” His voice was like a bucket of icy water being thrown over her. She couldn’t hold it together when he sounded so hurt. What had she done?_

_“Goodbye, Bellamy.”_ I love you. _She switched her phone off and ordered another shot._

 

Abby had called her a couple of times a month since that phone call, but Clarke had never picked up. She hates how much she hurt her. But she's going to try and make it right.

“Hey mum.” She whispers, bringing the phone to her ear and taking a deep breath.

“Clarke?” Abby asks. “Thank goodness.”

Clarke apologises, for what feels like the hundredth time. She apologises for how she left things, for not calling, for not saying she was home. Abby apologises too, offering Clarke access to her trust fund again.

“Thanks,” Clarke begins, “but I don’t need it. I got a job while I was gone. I have some savings.”

“Are you sure?” Abby asked, concern in her voice. Clarke loves her mother, but she honestly believes everything can be fixed with enough money. She wouldn’t surprised if there had been a private investigator following her while she was gone.

“Yes.” Clarke says firmly. She’s done well without it. She doesn’t need it now. “If something happens though, I’ll come to you. I promise. I’m home now. I’m not going anywhere.”

This seems to satisfy Abby, who continues to conversation with mundane facts about the last eighteen months. She doesn’t ask about Bellamy or any of her other friends, for which Clarke is grateful. She happily listens to her mother, not saying goodbye for well over an hour.

Being back in contact with Abby lifts another weight of Clarke’s shoulder. Her mother has forgiven her and she did everything she could to hurt her. _Things are going to get better._ She repeats the mantra to herself, as she falls asleep.

*

Clarke’s right. Everything continues to improve in the coming weeks. She gets a phone call from the museum she’d interned at when she was in college, offering her a position cataloguing the art that comes through. She accepts without a second thought, grateful that she managed to get a job before chewing too much into her savings. She gets coffee with Harper most Tuesday mornings and the second time Monty is there and the third time, he brings Miller and Jasper. Monroe goes to the same gym Clarke joins, so they start going together.

Obviously, she has to explain why she left and apologise to them, but they seem to accept it. Understand even. They’re her friends again.

She still hasn’t found away to make it up to Bellamy though. And Octavia is standing by him out of solidarity. He’s the one she hurt the most.

*

“He’s mad because he missed you the most.” Miller says, “He was a wreck when you left.”

Clarke and Miller don’t live in the same building, but they have to catch the same bus to get to work. Which was awkward for the first few days, but now they’ve returned to the easy friendship they had before.

“He doesn’t really act like it.” Clarke mumbles, knowing it’s not fair. She’s said it once, she’s said it a million times; forgiveness is going to take time.

“How much effort have you put in?” Miller asks. It’s not mean and it really is reminiscent of the Miller she was friends with to start with. Always the first to call someone out on their bullshit.

“He doesn’t want to talk to me.”

“Have you tried?” He presses.

“I went to see him.” Clarke mutters, not meeting Miller’s eye because he has a point and she hates it.

“And since then? Clarke,” She can see him shaking his head out of the corner of her eye. “You guys loved each other. You just have to put the effort in.”

Clarke sighs, nodding her head because she knows Miller is right. Bellamy deserves more than the one visit and the occasional running into each other in the hallways. She has to try again.

“You’ve got this, Griffin.” Miller says, clapping her shoulder and getting off the bus.

 

_“Blake.” Miller called, letting himself into the apartment. “Oh, Griffin’s here.”_

_“It’s basically my second home.” Clarke grinned, swinging her legs out of Bellamy’s lap and moving over so Miller can sit on the couch._

_“I was going to ask if you want to play 2k or something. But you’re obviously busy.” Miller muttered. He’d been Bellamy’s closest friend since they were children. They’d grown up together, gone to school and then college together. Miller was there when Bellamy lost his mum and Bellamy stood by Miller after the death of his father._

_“I’ll watch.” Clarke told him. “Bellamy just wanted to watch a dumb documentary anyway, so maybe this will be more interesting.”_

_“It’s not dumb, Clarke.” He said, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her close._

_“You two make me sick.” Miller said, rolling his eyes and throwing a controller at Bellamy. “You’re incredibly married._

_“You’re just jealous.” Bellamy deflected, while Clarke tried to will the blush away._

_Clarke settled into Bellamy’s side as he heckled Miller while they set the game up. Less than half an hour later, she was mostly asleep, focusing on the idle patterns Bellamy is tracing on her arm in between games._

_“You’ve got to do something about this, man.” Was the last thing Clarke heard before she passed out._

 

It’s that memory more than anything that convinces her that she has to try and talk to him again. She doesn’t go to Bellamy immediately after the conversation, (she has to get to work, there are paintings that need cataloguing) but the feeling that she needs to do something more lingers. When she’s not focusing on her work, she’s focusing on Bellamy. Less than two years ago, he meant everything to her and she knows she’s the one that threw it away, but she wants it back. And she’s willing to work for it.

By the time five o’clock rolls around, she’s decided that she’s going to see Bellamy again that night. She’s not going to expect forgiveness straight away, but she’s going to tell him how much she misses him and that she’s wants to fix it. She’s going to tell him she’s happy to wait until he’s ready. And that she’s going to work for it. Their friendship can’t be over. She won’t let it be.

The bus ride home is quicker than Clarke wants it to be, because she’s not ready to talk to Bellamy but if she doesn’t do it now she’s going to chicken out. Before she’s ready, she’s in her apartment changing into leggings and one of her oversized t-shirts that she used to wear before running away. Maybe the nostalgia will help her. She eats an apple to stall for time and then takes a steadying breath. She’s going to talk to him.

She’s knocking on the door of number eighteen a minute later, trying to steady her shaking hands. Bellamy opens his door, dressed in a dark red button down and grey pants and it takes her a moment to realise she doesn’t even know what he does for work anymore. The thought makes her sadder than anything else so far.

“Let me guess. You came here to fix things?” He sighs, but at least steps aside so she can come inside.

“Can we – can we talk?” Clarke asks, hating how shaky her voice is. She’s going to fix this, but she’s so nervous.

“I guess.” Bellamy says, flicking the lock on the door and leading the way into the apartment. It’s both the same and different to what she remembers. There are still books on every surface, weird and mismatched décor celebrating whatever nerdy thing he’s into and still tidy. But he has a new couch, nicer than the one they’d found on the curb when he first moved into the building and the painting she’d made him isn’t on the wall.

“You took down my painting.” She says, then flushes because she hadn’t meant to say that aloud.

“Yeah.” Bellamy says, face betraying no emotion. “I didn’t know if I was ever going to see you again. I didn’t want to look at it.”

“I was always going to come back.” Clarke says softly. It’s true. She had no idea how she was going to do it, but she was always going to come back eventually.

“Yeah?” Bellamy deadpans. “Could have fooled me.”

“I’m sorry, okay?” Clarke says.

“Sorry doesn’t change what you did, Clarke.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.” She whispers, finally meeting his eyes instead of looking aimlessly around his apartment.

“Well you did.” He says and this time she can hear the raw emotion in his voice. “You fucking hurt all of us.”

“I know.” Clarke murmurs, closing hey eyes in a vain attempt to stop the tears she can feel. “I needed some time and I handled it so badly.”

“We would have given it to you, if you’d just told us what was going on.” Bellamy snaps. “But you left. You ran away and we didn’t know if you were alive, if you were coming back. We didn’t know you just needed time.”

“I’m sorry.” She says again, digging her nails into her palms and taking a deep, shaky breath. She sees his eyes dart down to her hands and just knows he’s thinking the same thing as her. It’s her tell. If the conversation keeps going the way it’s going, she’s going to break. But he keeps talking, he doesn’t stop.

“I thought it was because we kissed. I thought that you couldn’t handle it and that’s why you ran.” Bellamy continues. She can see him breaking too and it hurts her even more. She can see how much she hurt him and it kills her. “I loved you, Clarke. I loved you so much.”

“I – Bellamy.” She says, not being able to help the strangled sob that escapes. “I didn’t want to leave you. You were – are so important to me.” She wants to tell him that she loved him too (still loves him even), but she doesn’t know how. She can’t drop that on him now.

“Yeah? You have a funny way of showing it.”

“I know!” She shouts, her voice cracking with emotion. She’s crying, but she hardly notices it. “I fucked up. I made a mistake by leaving and then I made mistake after mistake. I should have called or texted or just said I was leaving in the first place. I. Fucked. Up. And I’m sorry. But I can’t change that now. I’m here to fix it. I want to try and make it up to you. You’re my person, Bellamy. I miss you so much. I want you back.”

“Clarke.” Bellamy says sadly, shaking his head. “It’s not that simple. I missed you – miss you even, but it’s just not that easy. You can’t just decide it’s over.”

“Can’t we make it that easy?” She says, choking a little on a sob as she steps backwards and drops onto couch. Her chest is feeling tight and she’s having trouble controlling her breathing. He’s not going to forgive her. She’s not going to get her best friend back.

“You just want to go back to how we were? Just like that?” He asks, collapsing tentatively onto the couch next her. It’s tempting to lean into him, but she knows she has no right.

“I want to try.” Clarke cries, knowing how unfair it is to ask this of him but not being able to help it. They’re silent for a minute, each in their own thoughts. How can she fix this if Bellamy doesn’t want her back? She chokes on another sob, drops her face into her hands and desperately tries to calm her breathing without any luck.

“Hey, come on.” Bellamy finally whispers, reaching out and awkwardly putting a hand on her shoulder. “Take a deep breath, Clarke.”

“I’m sorry.” She apologises between her ragged breaths. “I’m so sorry, Bellamy.”

“Don’t think about that now. Just try calm down. Deep breaths.” She looks up at him, to find him already looking at her with concern. Concern for her that she hasn’t seen since the day before she ran away. So she listens to him, she takes deep breaths and she focuses on the feel of his hand on his shoulder. A reminder that even if they’re not friends, he still cares about her like he used too.

 

_“Clarke.” Bellamy called, pounding on her bedroom door. “Let me in.”_

_“No.” Clarke shouted back, wrapping her blanket around her shoulders tighter._

_“Don’t then. But I’m coming in.” He’d pushed her door open, despite the fact that she had locked it. She almost smiled when she saw him holding a hair pin. Probably one she had left in his apartment._

_He looked at her with more concern than she probably deserved. But there was something else there too. Something he probably saw in her eyes when she looked at him. Something that looked a little like love._

_“Hi.” She’d whispered, moving over so he could sit down next to her. She wanted him there. She just didn’t want to admit it. They were supposed to be the strong ones. They weren’t supposed to need anyone._

_“I just came from Raven’s.” Bellamy told her. “She told me we should drink this.” He had held up a bottle of tequila that she recognised as the bottle Raven kept stored in the back of her pantry – for emergencies._

_Clarke nods in agreement, reaching over Bellamy to her bedside where two empty glasses were already sitting._

_“I don’t want mixers.” She’d said, taking the bottle from him and pouring a generous amount into each._

_“Cheers.” Bellamy said, bitterly hitting the glasses together._

_“Cheers.” She’d echoed, bringing the cup to her lips and focusing on not wincing as the liquor burnt her throat._

_They drank enough that neither of them were thinking straight. They drank until they could talk about Wells and Maya and laugh at their fond memories. They drank until the pain they were both was numbed._

_They drank until they were leaning against each other, their foreheads basically touching. She smiled softly when he pressed a kiss to her cheek and then the corner of her mouth, when she leaned forward so their noses were touching._

_She wanted so badly to close the distance between them, to let him kiss her properly. But how could she when she was the reason two of her friends were dead? She didn't deserve to be happy. Bellamy deserved someone better than Clarke._

_And so the next day, she left._

 

“I was so angry at you for leaving.” Bellamy says when her breathing has calmed down, tears now swimming in his eyes. “I don’t want to feel that way anymore.”

“We need each other, Bellamy.” She says softly. It’s an effort, but she manages to keep her voice even. “We’re a team. We do this together.”

“Together.” He says equally as softly. “We can try. I want you back in my life, Clarke.”

She can’t help but lean across the couch and pull him into her. He hesitates for a moment, but wraps his arms equally tightly around her, burying his face in her neck.

It’s not forgiveness, not yet. But it’s the first step.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry not sorry about all the flashbacks in this chapter!
> 
> Come find me on Tumblr so we can shout and cry about the trailer and the fact there are still 45(?) days until season 5![THE MESS IS HERE](http://mynameisnotkatlyn.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> Let me know what you thought! <3

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this, comments and kudos are the best! Let me know your thoughts! 
> 
> I know this isn't my usual fluffy work, but I wanted to try something different!  
> 
> Hit me up on Tumblr so we can yell about The 100 [heree](http://mynameisnotkatlyn.tumblr.com/) or [here](https://not-a-total-basket-case.tumblr.com/).


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